The Courtship of Claudia Brown
by GPR
Summary: "It struck me odd how Nick seemed over Stephen's betrayal so quick, as if he'd had more than enough time to get over it." Nick awakes after being shot to find time has healed itself, leaving him in a timeline he never thought he'd see again. Nick/Claudia.
1. The Week Ends

**Ok, so here's a bit of old school Primeval, yay! I know some of you are hoping for an update of disobedience, and I can tell you the next chapter's getting there, but I've always felt my heart belonged to the Nick/Claudia/Jenny pairing, so I couldn't help writing this one that I've had in my head for ages. The premise is Nick has come back through the anomaly where we last saw Claudia, so it sort of picks up after series one, the only difference being Nick has experienced series two and three, including Jenny (but no one else knows this).**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>I'm not going to lie- this week has been absolutely horrendous, and, judging by the amount of paperwork that's sneakily managed to wheedle it's way onto my desk, next week doesn't seem too promising either.<p>

I could kill for a decent cup of coffee at the moment, or a cappuccino… or hot chocolate. I've been working non stop all day, forms to fill in here, journalists to smooth over there, etc, etc. The only god damned saving grace is that haven't had to deal with Helen Cutter once this week, though, come to think of it, she's still very much with us. Nick's still nursing his wounded pride and Stephen… well; I can't say anyone on the team is overly enthusiastic to talk to him anymore.

Honestly, I didn't really see that shock revelation coming, and yet, of course Helen had slept with Stephen. Should have seen it a mile off- it's the kind of vindictive thing she'd do.

Alas it's Friday morning, and the only thing I can think of is actually getting out and _doing _something today- productive or not, I'm not really fussed, Lester's driving me mad with his insistent whining and bitching. Sometimes he can be almost as annoying as that bloody singing, crazy frog thing off the telly- almost, but I'd much rather take 24 hours of Lester over that abomination.

Opening my laptop with a forced enthusiasm (one of those moments where you feel like doing sarcastic "yippee"), I plug it into the mains, waiting for the wretched thing to boot. It's so old it puts great aunt Betsy to shame, it really does, and it usually takes a full 15 minutes before I can even touch it without fear of crashing the darn thing.

It loads, after I've managed to read the front articles plastered across _the Telegraph_, and I fold the broadsheet away, only to be met with this:

Configuration updates needed, please wait.

I hate Friday mornings as much as Monday ones. Blasted thing.

Half the paper and around 20 articles later, I see the familiar sight of my desktop, hallelujah.

And it just seemingly gets worse from there.

"Claudia?" I whip around in my chair, only to be met with Lester's grim face as he surveys the work area with utter disdain, "Can you possibly check in on Cutter? Only I'm a little fed up of stabbing around in the dark. I want answers."

"Of course," I nod, a little too enthusiastic for my own liking, and even though I went to all the trouble of booting up the pc, I don't really care- I get to leave this stuffy place, and retreat to the inviting office of none other than Nicholas Cutter, "I'll just get going, did you want him back here?"

"Not if I can help it, no."

X

Though cluttered with so much memorabilia you can barely see the burgundy walls (probably for the best), Nick's office is one of those places where you just step into and instantly feel… at ease. The air's warm, and the familiar essence of multiple deodorants lingers, filling your lungs with its delightful smell with each intake of breath. It's his smell, I know because I've been close enough on several occasions, and that beautifully saccharine smell has enveloped me each time.

Despite the irrefutable smell of him, I can't see him anywhere, and I call his name out uncertainly before descending the stairs. There's no reply, so I seat myself in the chair opposite his, which sits behind the desk, and admire the trinkets on his desk top.

"Claudia Brown." His voice, so soft, so beautifully fluent, makes me jump with the unexpectedness of it all. It's always my full name, like a title I've somehow earned.

He's standing at the top of the stairs, having just walked into the office, gazing at me with those piercing eyes, a slight smile adorning those… those lips. The memory of his lips pressed furiously against mine flashes into my head briefly, and I'm sure my cheeks flush with a smattering of pink.

"Nicholas Cutter." I reply in mild jest, not rising from the chair as he makes his way towards me, trying to suppress a laugh- and failing.

Hair, reasonably tousled in its usual windswept way, catches my eye momentarily, and I wonder what it'd be like to run my fingers through it… my reverie is broken as he leans back onto the desk, arms folded, ankles crossed, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I sigh, drawing in a deep breath before exhaling significantly, "Lester's wanting some solid answers on how to combat these anomalies."

He unknowingly mimics my sigh, eyes fixating on the floor as if trying to concentrate, "I've come up with one or two ideas… whether they'll work or not is another matter entirely, but I need to get Connor to build the devices first."

"Devices?"

"To detect anomalies. It's a work in progress," his eyes linger on me for a little longer than they should do, and I realise that we haven't exactly seen each other since he came back through the anomaly with Helen, "How are you?"

The question throws me off balance a little bit, because Nick says it in such a way that it sounds so personal, so intimate and concerned, as if he really cares how I am. I know he does, I can tell by his mannerisms and the sotto-voce of his voice that there's underlying feelings there… the kisses were a bit of a give away, admittedly, but apart from that…

"I… I'm good thanks." I manage to murmur, my eyes meeting his steady gaze and I smile.

"No more nightmares?"

"None."

A genuine smile graces his lips. It's adorable when he smiles; it's almost like he's forgotten how to do it over the years, only to have discovered it once again, because his eyes light up as well as his face. I continue to smile back, the only thing I can honestly do.

He clears his throat suddenly, a slight colour adorning his stubble-roughed cheeks as he averts his gaze, evidently uncomfortable with something, before he lurches away from the table, taking me by surprise. He runs a tense hand through his tousled hair, pacing away from me, the other shoved deeply into the recess of his trouser pocket. Somehow his whole demeanour's changed in the blink of an eye, and I'm felt feeling a little shocked and worried.

"Nick?" He swings around at the mention of his name, and as soon as it leaves my lips he's beside me once again, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against the skin of my cheek.

"We should go out." He states, both hands now thoroughly hidden from view by the material of his trousers.

I stare dumbstruck at him for the briefest of moments; a streak of worried horror flits across his roguish features and I panic- I don't quite understand, "What?"

"I- I mean that's if you want to," he stammers hastily, "You know, to a restaurant, or… or a pub or something."

I hesitate, my eyes subconsciously flickering to his lips, "I… I would love to, Nick."

I remember the harshness of his stubble against my chin, my cheeks, my lips… and I desperately long for it again. I resist the urge to take his face in my hands and press a kiss to his inviting lips, I need to be professional- we both do.

There's a moment wherein he looks almost lost, heartbroken, as if remembering some painful memory that only I can ease.

"Oh, Claudia," he breathes in an instant of desirous abandon as his eyes follow my gaze; his apprehension somewhat dissipated as he realises how close we really are, "Do you know how badly I wanted to take you into my arms after I came back through that anomaly?"

"No." I mutter, my eyes unwillingly flutter closed; disbelieving that Nick can make me act in such a manner. He'd been gone quite a few hours, I remember, and when they'd finally returned his eyes had lingered on me sometime after Helen had disappeared back through. There had been a sadness there, I'd noticed, perhaps due to the revelation of his wife's infidelity, but it had been dwarfed by what I assumed was contemplation.

His hand laces into the hair at the nape of my neck, whilst the other slides around my waist to draw me against him; my hands resting on the lapel of his shirt. I can't think straight, my mind, my judgement, is severely clouded by him and his unorthodox suavity.

"God," He growls uncontrollably, and I feel his chest vibrate beneath my fingertips, "I can't… I can't _wait_, Claudia, I can't… do this conventionally; I can't date you for months on end before I can have you all to myself… I've already waited too long, and that was too hard…"

"Nick, please…" I am assailed by the heavily scented husk of his neck and my words are lost to oblivion. His lips vehemently attack the expanse of skin below my right ear in a frenzied passion I've not experienced with any man before; his teeth nipping at my neck until it's livid red.

An irrepressible moan of longing escapes the confines of my throat as I throw my head back, revealing fresh areas for him to devour.

It is the worst possible time for Stephen to waltz in.

And yet he does, innocently enough, book in hand as he stumbles across a scene he thought he'd never had to witness.

Nick's hand is hungrily running up my exposed thigh, skimming the edges of my skirt before we notice his presence, and by that time I'm already pushed up against the desk, clinging to him with mad lust.

Initially Stephen seems dumbstruck as Nick and I hastily untangle ourselves from one another, and then slowly his surprise fades, morphing into something far worse- fury. I pull the hem of my skirt down, swiftly smoothing my hair and desperately trying to rid myself of all evidence of what Nick and I were… doing.

Stephen slowly descends the stairs, his eyes fixated on Nick, as if I'm not here at all, and his reaction bemuses me a little. Why on earth is he angry? It's not like he-

"So all this time you've been penalising me for sleeping with you wife when you've been cheating yourself?"

A million things ran through my mind at that precise moment, like the fact that Nick _was_ indeed still married, even if his wife was psychotic, and that technically made us no better than Stephen of Helen- even though we hadn't actually… uh… slept together…

Yet.

I hesitated for a split second, wondering whether Nick would retort, and as soon as I did, he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he snarled, looking, for the first time that I had known him, quite frightening, "But when you were screwing my wife so was I. This is quite different-"

"Really Cutter? How's that?" He snapped, taking a step forward so they were practically inches from one another, forcing me to step back a little to avoid being sandwiched between them.

"Well for one thing Helen made the decision to leave me years ago, and as far as I'm concerned, that relationship ended the day she pissed off through an anomaly."

"Anyway," I intervened, now slightly worried they'd injure one another, "I should be getting back to the Home Office and… uh… getting on with some work."

I made a bid to leave, heading straight for the door when Nick's hand caught my upper arm as I was half-way up the stairs. I turned, my gaze originally falling on his, before it briefly flickered towards a disgruntled Stephen, remaining on him temporarily. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but he struggled to find something to say, instead settling on "take care."

I forced a smile, for whose benefit I wasn't entirely sure, and reminded him to keep me updated with any sort of progress he might make. There was something lingering in his eyes as I pulled away, an emotion I couldn't quite place- regret perhaps. I nodded curtly in Stephen's direction in way of goodbye before I left, relief flooding though me, then embarrassment, and then nothing but shame.

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><p>GPR<p> 


	2. Work Begins

I know it's a bit short, but I wrote this chapter, then the pc crashed and I lost it all, so I'm not overly happy with the writing, but the plotline's good so far. Enjoy and review, you know you want to ;)

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><p>Saturday morning. I stiffle a yawn with the back of my hand as I make a cup of coffee, hoping it will wake me up somewhat. I don't usually go to bed late, mainly because I'm <em>not<em> a morning person, but last night I felt the last thing I needed was have Nick Cutter in the forefront of my mind before I went to bed. All I really wanted to do last night was loose myself in something, take my mind off things... calm down a little and stop feeling so God damned awful that Stephen, of all people, had walked in and seen us...

I ended up doing paperwork that was due for Monday the entire evening, until my head throbbed painfully and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I managed to get most of it done, and by one o'clock I was far too exhausted do anything else, let alone think of anything. Even though I was asleep in minutes, I awoke hours later breathing heavily, tangled in my bed sheets and thinking of nothing _but_ Nick. I know it's terribly inappropriate, and I wish I didn't have these thoughts, these dreams, but it's beyond me. Before they were merely fantasies, born through the kiss we shared at the bar, and then the golfing hotel, but now... now they're something entirely different, they're _possibilities_. It scares me a little, because I've not been in an intimate relationship for years- not even the occasional fling. I've forgotten what it feels like to be desirable, to have someone interested in you in _that_ way.

Yet, however much I'd like to have something of a relationship with Nick, it's just not possible. There's fact he's still technically married to Helen, the moral high ground with Stephen, and we're also colleagues, so it could affect our work if, heaven forbid, we should end up hating one another. In my mind I know all of this, and I tell myself everyday it's not practical nor logical- and yet I find myself wearing underwear I've not worn since I split with my ex-finacé, because the man makes me feel so bloody _sexy_. I'm not entirely sure what it is that makes me this attracted to him, perhaps his passion for what we do, or his strong dislike of the rules... or even maybe even the simple idea he's a _man_. Nick's more mature than most other men I've dated, more experienced in life and far more... rugged... hmmm... a man who doesn't wax his chest, a man with stubble, whose skin smells of the musky books he's been handling and faint deoderant...

The doorbell rings and I snap out of my reverie, feeling the heat creep up my neck and into cheeks. I should _not_ be thinking of him... like that... in those kinds of ways. Sighing heavily, I take a quick bite out of my buttered toast before heading into the hallway. Through the frosted glass of the front door I can make out the distinct shape of a man, though I'm not sure who it is. Stumbling over my trainers strewn haphazzardly in the foyer, I curse, undoing the latch and swinging the door open without looking as I kick them aside.

"Hello, sorry, I just..." I trail off, shocked to see Nick standing, rather sheepishly, on my front steps.

"Hi..." he smiles sincerely, as if he's not seen me in a long time.

"Did you want to come in?" I say, a little flustered as I pull the door open a little futher, hoping he'll step inside.

"Uh... no... I... I wouldn't want to intrude in on you at the weekend, I know you don't get much time off work these days," he scratches the back of his neck a little, a habit I know he does when nervous or uncomfortable, "I actually came to apologise for yesterday... y'know... I, um, I shouldn't have put you in that situation... it was wrong of me and I... well... I thought coming over to tell you that would be better than calling... more personal and all that crap."

I laugh, leaning against the doorframe with my arms folded and catching his gaze, "You don't really do gentlemanly do you?"

He looks a little awkward for a moment, before staring me straight in the eye, "Do I have to apologise for that too?"

"You didn't have to say sorry in the first place, Nick," I hesitate, tearing my eyes off of his and training them on the floor, "I... I know it's been difficult with Helen being around after years-"

He chuckles, startling me.

"I've had enough time to get over Helen and Stephen, Jen." Nick freezes, panic creeping into his eyes before he hastily recomposes himself. Had he just called me Jen? I frown, watching him carefully as he sighs heavily, "I'm sorry."

I grin slightly, "You seem to be sorry a lot."

"Hmmm... I think I owe you a lot, Claudia." Suddenly there's a warmth in his eyes, and I can feel the blood rising to my cheeks.

"Are you sure you didn't want to come in?" I can't help myself, it's probably the last thing I should do but I'd like to spend some time with him.

He pauses, as if whether debating whether he should or not, and then finally nods, "Okay."

I offer to make him some coffee as he seats himself at my kitchen table, looking around him as if he's a little lost, as if it's difficult for him to take in the new surroundings. I find it bizarre having him here, inside my house, bizarre that I will now be able to envision him sitting, albeit a little rigidly, at my dinning table with my "World's Greatest Godmother" mug clasped in his hands. Yet however strange it is, however novel to me, I like the idea.

As I sit down opposite to him and take another bite out of my breakfast, I realise how selfish it must look and, without thinking, offer him some of the half eaten toast. He smirks in amusement, and before I can put the toast back on my plate and make him his own, he leans over and takes off the corner. My ears go red in a knee-jerk reaction to such an intimate act, and I can hear the blood pumping through them. I hastily try to regain my composure, scolding my apparent embarassment- haven't we shared silava before now? And personal space? So what significance does sharing a piece of flipping toast make? In theory: nothing. In reality: everything. It's only an act a couple who's been intimate for _months_ (at least) engage in, not a man and a woman who've kissed once or twice before. And then something springs to mind that, god willing, makes all of this seem simpler.

Nick is studying my face and must think that he's done something completely wrong, for he stands seconds later and mutters something about "not intruding", making a bid to leave.

I manage to catch up with him in the hallway, furious chewing my mouth full of toast and swallowing as I attempt to form a sentence, "You said... you said when you came back through that anomaly that you'd been through far longer than time had passed on our end, right?"

His furrows deeply as he mulls something over, "How'd you know that?"

"I read the report. I hadn't seen you for about a week," I falter slightly, realising how pathetic that sounds, "And I was concerned."

Silence.

"You wrote in your report that there was some time difference. We have it down as evidence that your watch was ahead of our clocks when you came back through." I bite my lip, wondering if he'll even dignify me with an answer.

He turns to face the door, and the stretch of silence seems far too long.

"When I came to your office yesterday... you said you'd waited too long..."

"Claudia please..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, "... I don't really know, to be honest... it's... far more complicated than I'd like."

"Nick, I-"

Nick's mobile begins to buzz in his pocket, and a few seconds later mine flashes on the foyer table.

So much for a bloody day off.

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><p>GPR<p> 


	3. Anomalous Anomalies

"You wanna lift?" Nick gazes at me from across the bonnet of his car as I slam the front door closed. For a moment I consider his proposition, but our earlier discussion is still churning away in the back of my mind. A large part of me just can't figure out why he won't be honest with me, and, if I'm being frank, it's unnerving me... it's making me feel slightly resentful and... well, hurt, that he doesn't feel as if he's able to confide in me.

"Uh... no, that's ok. I..." I desperately search for an excuse as to why I can't possibly catch a ride with him, which is difficult seeing as, so far, I've never turned down his offers, "...I don't think it's very practical, you know... I don't want you to feel as if you have to wait around for me whilst I sort out paperwork."

"It's fine, I'd..." He trails off, catching my eye, a flicker of understanding briefly passing across his rugid features, and I feel a twinge of guilt. A moment passes, before he tears his eyes away and gets into his car without another word.

Silently I descends the front steps and unlock my own car, climbing in just as Nick starts his engine and begins to swing out of his parking space behind me. My heart sinks as I watch the back of the pick up truck disappear around the corner... it makes me realise I still don't fully understand the man...

Kick starting the engine I pull out into the road, irate that my weekend's been ruined and Nick Cutter's in a mood with me.

X

The anomaly site wasn't as far as some of the others- just outside London, actually, somewhere around Egham, Uxbridge area. Pulling up alongside Abby's Mini, I gaze out at the looming trees before clambering out of the car and looking around for another of the team.

Walking a little way towards the, now, audible comotion in the near distance, I can make out the lone shape of Connor, who pauses briefly, squints, then raises a hand and waves. Meeting me half-way I notice he's grinning like a school kid, hat askew and scarf haphazardly flung over his shoulder.

"Hey." He greets.

"Hi- what happened to you? Look like you've been in a bit of tiff."

Laughing lightly, his grin becomes broader, "Oh, you're not going to believe this... absolutely brilliant... amazing, actually, you're gonna want to see this."

I make a sound of disgust, already apprehensive, "No more dinosaurs, the novelty's worn off now."

"Oh gosh no, nothing like that..."

We approach a clearing where, much to my surprise, there are little military personel about, their guns hanging by their sides as they nonchalontly mill about. Obviously no tents have been set up yet, but surely everyone should be present, especially if there's the chance of a creature incursion?

Drawing closer, I spot Nick, his back to us as he puts his hands on his hips, staring off into the distance where, unsurprisingly, an anomaly pulsates.

"Nick? What's going..." My breath catches in my throat as I draw along side him, my eyes falling onto where his are seemingly trained, "Oh... oh my..."

I feel his gaze on me, and I turn, not quite believing myself.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" A gentle smile graces his lips as he turns back to them, "I hope you don't mind, but I sent some of the soldiers home, I didn't want them to feel nervous or threatened."

I hesitate, understanding but still wary, "What if something else decides to come through?"

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and a dimple forming on his right cheek, "Dinosaurs have long since been dead, judging by how far along the evolutionary timeline these primates are... the worse thing to come through would be a lion."

I pause, watching the ape cling her tiny infant to her chest, her wide eyes moving from Nick to me and then back. The hair adorning her body is thick, yet thinning in places, her face is slightly flatter that of chimps, and her legs seem much longer. She sits in front of the anomaly, hesitant, slightly frightened.

"I reckon she's just given birth... a day or two maybe?" He estimates, grinning.

"I thought you were in a mood with me?" I say, under my breath.

He pauses, the smile fading from his face, suddenly sombre, "Life's not long enough to hold grudges."

I snort in amusement, then immediately scold myself for being so unladylike, "What happened to you through that anomaly? All of a sudden you're the man of wisdom."

"And you haven't changed squat." He says so seriously I don't know what to make of it, our eyes meet, and suddenly blood's rushing to my cheeks and ears. My face burns under the intensity of his eyes, and I have to look away.

"So... um... what are we going to do with them?"

Nick clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, "I... uh... well, I guess the only thing we can do is try to coerce her through without scaring her too much."

"Sounds like a plan."

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><p>Please review! Sorry it took a little while!<p>

GPR


	4. Wine, wine and well, more wine!

Sorry it's taken so long but I've got upcoming A2 exams! :O Hopefully I can get into uni, though the required grades are ridiculous this year... anyway, enjoy! :)

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><p>Today's events, if somewhat long and tedious, had been relatively uneventful – no prehistoric predators, no Helen and no parasitic creatures. It hadn't been too difficult to get the mother and her infant back through the anomaly before it closed, but we'd spent the better part of the day hanging around to make sure it had closed for good – well, in a few day we should know for good.<p>

Now, sitting behind the wheel of my car, I can't wait to go home and actually have some time alone. Sometimes I wish I could forget that any of this ever happened to me – I wish I wasn't on call twenty four seven and I wish, for once, I could go on holiday without having the whole faff of arranging for someone to temporarily fill in for me.

Swinging the car into the parking space outside my house, I feel relief wash over me. I'm exhausted; I just want a goddamn bath, a glass of wine and a goodnights sleep for a change. Is it really too much to ask for? Maybe I should unplug the landline... just for tonight. I can't deal with much more.

Setting my car keys down on the hall table, I push the front door shut and kick off my shoes. Several months ago I wouldn't have seen my house as an escape, more a place of loneliness, but recently it's the only place where no one bothers me. I think Nick's the only one, apart from Lester, who knows whereabouts I live and so I find the others never drop in on me. I've heard they do that sometimes with Nick, just drop in from time to time for... well, I don't really know what... not that I particularly care what he gets up to with everyone else.

I head for the kitchen, intending to get myself drink. Remembering I bought some port not that long ago I go straight to the far side of the kitchen, where the cupboards are, and pull it out, and then a glass.

"I never took you to be much of a drinker."

I drop the glass in shock, and it shatters against the tiled flooring as I spin around to face the table, where Nick had been sitting only this morning.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" My fear's suddenly replaced with fury as I recognise who she is, and I can't help but swear. I've had enough of her already and now she's _breaking into_ my house?

Helen gazes back at me, smirking in that stupid, _look-how-clever-and-mysterious-I-am_ way that she has, "Thought I'd just drop in for a bit of a chat."

I think, if there is a God, he seriously dislikes me. Right now, I'd rather have the world and its mother "drop in" on me.

"I didn't think you were the chatty type."

"Touché." She says.

It's one of those things I've never really been able to wrap my head around. Watching Helen peeling the skin off an apple, I can't quite envision her with Nick. I've never been able to, even though I know and accept that they have been married. I just... I can't imagine how they worked back then. I know he says she's changed, but from my perspective Helen's always been this way, and it doesn't quite fit with Nick.

"So?" I prompt, wanting to get her out as soon as humanly possible.

She watches me momentarily, as if thinking, then decidedly speaks, "Do you... has Nick been acting a little strange to you?"

I hesitate, caught off guard. It strikes me odd how she would know that, and why, of all people, she would come to me, "I... what makes you think I've noticed anything?"

"He's closest to you, isn't he?" Our eyes meet, and I notice the smirk's vanished. Perhaps it's the fact that she's openly acknowledging that there's something between Nick and me which makes it awkward. I'm quiet for a bit, because for all our criticism of her, we've never really seen it from her view. Yes, she left him, I can't condone that, but she's losing him now, and she's experiencing the pain he must have felt all those years ago. Though, I think that her pain must be worse - Nick's leaving her through lack of love. At least when she "died" he thought she still loved him.

"You could say that."

"So?" She's looking at me intently, as if I know something of great importance to her.

I don't really want to answer, because I don't know what this is all for, "I think he's just upset, about losing all those soldiers. He probably just blames himself."

I daren't mention the conversation about the watch, or the supposed difference in time.

Helen nods deliberately, which makes me think she doesn't quite believe me, then gets up to leave. It's only when she's at the front door that I choose to speak.

"Helen?" She turns, "Next time you break into my house, I'll shoot you myself. Understood?"

"We'll see."

She leaves the door wide open and my pity rapidly dissipates. She's like one of those kids who purposely pisses you off just to get a reaction.

I slam it shut, wondering if I should call Nick. I think better of it, concluding that I genuinely can't be bothered – what could he do about it anyway? He'd probably offer to come over, concerned, and I'd turn him down, terrified I'd put myself in difficult situation (though I think I've already done this...?). These past few months I've noticed my innocent affection for him as gone... well... questionable. I know he reciprocates my feelings, and judging by what happened in his office neither of us would think twice about sleeping together. What I worry about, and what stops me from calling him right now and asking him to come over, is that this relationship would be far too complicated. His ex-wife shows up every now and then, making life difficult for everyone, Stephen believes there's some kind of double standard going on, and either one of us could be eaten by a dinosaur tomorrow. Sometimes I just think it'd been easier to settle down with someone without so much baggage and whose life expectancy didn't have to be calculated on a daily basis.

I clear up the broken glass before downing two glasses of port, and later collapse into bed. I just can't do anything at the moment, maybe tomorrow, when I'm not feeling so tired.

XXX

I wake up rather early as I'd forgotten to draw the curtains, and so weak sunlight fills my disorganised bedroom. I try to rest for a bit, but give up as I'm too awake. Instead I make some breakfast and eat it in the dining room, so I can look out into the back garden from the French doors. It's not too big, but I adore it as the previous owner had it designed to replicate a traditional Chinese garden. It reminds me of the year I spent over in Shanghai after finishing my degree, a present from my father for getting a first. Sometimes I wish I could go back, as I often find myself missing it, but I know I could never do that, not now.

By the time it's twelve o'clock I've already done my washing, tidied up my room a bit and done some paperwork. That's when the phone rings, and I feel nothing but dread. I can't be dealing with another anomaly. I just... I can't.

It's Abby's voice I hear, which is odd as it's usually Lester, one of his assistants or Nick.

"Claudia?"

"Yes?" How did she get my number?

"It's Abby. I know it's a day off, and I understand if you don't want to come, but it's Connor's birthday today, and I was hoping I could surprise him with a little get together. Nick and Stephen are already coming; I just wondered if you wanted to?"

"Of course." I can't hide the surprise in my voice, "That sounds great."

I'm sort of glad I've got something to look forward to, rather than spending the evening alone again. I haven't really had a social life since the first anomaly appeared. I keep putting old friends and colleagues off, worried something will come up and I have no real excuse as to why I leave in such a hurry. They all think I'm a workaholic anyway.

I guess that's why my ex-fiancé left me.

XXX

I take a taxi to Abby and Connor's as I'm not entirely sure how much drinking we could be doing. Abby answers the door, wearing a party hat and draped in confetti from a popper, and I realise I'm the last to arrive.

Upstairs Stephen and Connor are sitting at the table, lining shot glasses up and filling them. Nick's sitting on the sofa, watching the mute television with disinterest, for want of something better to do.

Connor spots me, and comes over, grinning enthusiastically. Handing him his present, a bottle of wine, I give him a hug and wish him happy birthday.

Connor's one of the few people in the world I like completely, even when he's being a little moronic. He's just one of those people who make you laugh, even when you're genuinely angry at him, and is morally good at heart. I think he's a credit to the team, to be honest, even though the others don't really notice it, at least, not as much as they should do.

"What are you doing?" I ask, looking over at the table, directing my question more at Connor than Stephen.

I'm surprised when Stephen replies, glancing at me with a grin, "It's a drinking game Connor and I thought up."

I know he's not angry at me, but all the same I thought he'd avoid talking to me after what happened between the three of us in Nick's office. I was, after all, partly the reason as to why he and Nick were arguing at the moment.

Nick turns around at the sound of our voices, his eyes lingering on me, "It's gonna be a hoot. I brought twister."

I laugh at this, imagining us attempting twister sober, and then varying degrees of drunk. He smiles slightly at my amusement.

"But before that, we're doing a quiz. For every question you get wrong, you take a shot."

It all starts off fairly innocent, with only the occasional wrong answer and inevitable shot. Before long, though, when we've all had at least three shots each, it starts to get silly. No one can be bothered to answers the questions correctly, and eventually Abby makes up a new part of the game: forfeits. Getting an answer wrong no longer meant simply taking a drink, but doing a dare thought up by some fairly drunk people.

Nick sits next to me, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He's quiet, subdued, almost, and I can't help but let my gaze fall on him every now and then.

It's going to be an interesting night...

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><p>Please review! :)<p>

GPR


	5. Midnight Happenings

Right - I'm awfully sorry about how long it's been, but I've had such a hectic and rather exciting few months! First of all, **my boyfriend of three years PROPOSED**:D! Then, I got my A-Level results and **got into Reading University to study English Literature!** So, in celebration, I wrote loads - here's the next chapter. Reviews make me wanna write ;)

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><p>My head's spinning, and I'm feeling nauseatingly dizzy. For the past two rounds I've been drunk enough to struggle answering questions I would know if I was sober, and so I continue to take a shot after each wrong answer. I want to stop, mainly because for years now I've known my limits with alcohol, and tonight, I've reached it. Anymore, and I'll feel like shit tomorrow.<p>

Connor fell asleep about twenty odd minutes ago, leaving me, Nick, Abby and Stephen to continue playing as he – the unsurprising lightweight of the group – lies sprawled and unmoving on the laminate flooring.

Abby racks her brain for a decent question as Stephen pours Nick a fresh shot, sloshing some onto the floor. She finally comes up with: "How can you tell a male slug from a female slug?"

Nick's brow furrows slightly, as if wary of the question. He appears to be the least drunk of us all, which is hardly surprising, being the most well-read, "There's no difference because slugs are hermaphrodites."

"Cor-rect." Abby says, unconsciously drawing out the syllables, "Stephen, your go."

He waits expectantly for her to think of a suitable question, but she struggles to find one, so I step in, "Name three classic dystopian novels."

Stephen looks at me, at first a little confused, and then appears a little pensive, "Er...1984?"

"Yep."

"The Time Machine?"

I pause, "I'll let you have that one, only because of the Morlock thingies."

"War of the Worlds?"

"Not technically dystopia. That's alien invasion, sci-fi... apocalyptic, maybe."

"Aw c'mon! It kind of is."

I shake my head, then abruptly stop, the world swimming about, "Dystopia is classified as the oppression of society by a governmental force, such as 1984, or a corporate business – the best example I can think of is Soylent Green, or the general acceptance by society of something we of today would find horrifying, such as The Handmaid's Tale. Of course, there are other conventions, but they generally fall into those three brackets."

He sighs, then admits defeat and drinks the shot he'd originally poured for Nick. We let him off a forfeit, as we've done for the past forty minutes for anyone who gets a question wrong, as some of us can barely walk in a straight line anymore.

Abby stares at us, her mouth agape a little, "What on earth are you talking about?"

From the corner of my eye, I can see a faintly amused smile on Nick's lips, "It's a sub-genre of Science Fiction, Abby. Quite specific really."

His eyes catch mine briefly, and I feel the need to explain myself, "I took English Literature at A-Level. I've liked the genre ever since I read _We_."

He merely grins at me, "_We_ was good."

I feel the heat flushing my cheeks, surprised we have this common ground, but tear my gaze away from him as Stephen speaks, "Claudia's turn. Name three characters from Greek mythology that weren't Gods."

I groan, then try hard to think, "Pandora... she was the first woman, I think, created by Zeus... Adonis was a mortal man that Aphrodite fell in love with and... uh... Narcissus?"

Stephen pulls his phone out to check, "Well, Pandora and Narcissus are right, but there seems to be some controversy over Adonis..."

The three of them decide it's an incorrect answer, and so I knock back another shot, before checking my watch.

"Jesus. I'd better get going." I scramble to my feet, forgetting how woozy I feel, and stumble.

Nick's on his feet a few seconds later, his hands gripping my elbows to give me some support, even though he appears somewhat unsteady on his feet too, "It's getting rather late. I'll call a cab. The three of us can share, split the cost and whatnot."

Abby squints at the clock, "Wow, time flies, hey?"

Stephen's the one who calls the cab in the end, as Nick ends up half carrying, half dragging Connor to his bed - Abby hovering over him as does so, repeatedly thanking him and saying she'd do it herself, if he weren't so heavy.

After that, I'm aware of very little going on around me. I'm exhausted and far drunker than I'd like to be. I keep thinking about how it's a work day tomorrow, and how I'm going to look like someone dragged me straight out of hell itself.

Then Nick is beside me, breathing heavily and yawning and I can't think of anything else.

"Fun night, eh?" He says, grinning roguishly as he stretches out his arms. Heat flushes my cheeks.

"Yeah. It was a nice change from sitting at home alone on a Sunday night."

Nick pulls a face, "I know what you mean."

"The taxi's on its way." I jump at Stephen's voice, unaware he's walked up behind me.

A few minutes later and we wave goodbye to a bleary-eyed Abby, who sees us to the door before heading to bed herself, and head over to the black cab sitting patiently by the curb.

All three of us cram into the back seat, failing to notice there's a drop down one opposite, laughing as we fumble for seatbelts and buckles, squishing ourselves together in the process – Nick in the middle.

"Where to?" The driver asks by glancing in the rear-view mirror. We agree to go to Stephen's first, as it's closest, then mine, and then Nick's, as he lives more on the outskirts. I hand Nick a twenty, which he says should more than cover it, but Stephen struggles to make up his share, instead giving his wallet to Nick for him to count it out.

"I'm sorry..." he murmurs.

"Don't be, you just had a bit too much." Nick says, handing back the wallet.

Stephen shakes his head, a little too vehemently, and pauses to recompose himself. He lays a hand on Nick's arm, gazing at him intently, "No. I mean... sorry. I'm... s-sorry."

A mutually understanding seems to pass between them, and Nick's reply puzzles me.

"I know you are. Don't worry about it."

They fall silent, and I can't help but feel as if I'm intruding on a private moment. I press my head against the cold glass, hoping it'll ease the onset of a headache I feel forming. The taxi stops at lights, and the window judders against my forehead, making it worse.

It seems odd how Nick has forgiven Stephen so quickly.

I close my eyes.

XXX

My chest slams against the seatbelt, knocking the air out of me, forcing me awake, and my head's thrown forward by the force, jarring my neck. I'm vaguely aware of a yelp escaping my lips.

Nick's swearing, the driver's swearing and someone outside is swearing. Stephen's no longer in the taxi with us, so I guess I was asleep when we dropped him off. The car moves off again, before I even understand what's happened, and Nick and the cabbie are talking heatedly.

"Damn bastard. Don't have a thing against 'em c'ept when they're stupid enough ter ride round this late at night without goddamn lights or reflective clothing."

Nick shakes his head in disbelief, "How the hell was that your fault?"

"I know, right? What road was it?"

"The next on the right... here... right here."

We reach my house in mere minutes, and Nick only realises I'm awake when we pull up outside, "Are you ok?"

I nod, "What happened?"

"Just some kid on a bike," he opens the door, then looks at me hesitantly, "Do you want me to..."

I pause, processing his words, "Please... I'm still feeling a bit dizzy."

He grins at me, "Sure thing."

Part of me thinks he's enjoying this – me being pretty helpless and... well, dependant for once. He's not exactly brilliant either, tripping over the curb as he gets out, but I don't think I'd make it to my front door, not in a straightforward fashion at least, and so I take the hand he offers. As we ascend the steps to my front door, Nick's arm firmly around my waist, I realise he's far steadier than I initially thought.

My thoughts feel muddled as I dig around in my coat pocket for my keys, but I find them and unlock the door with relative success for a drunk.

Drunk.

What a funny word.

The door's open and Nick turns away, headed for the cab when I blurt out something incomprehensible. He looks at me momentarily, and I frown at the ground, desperately trying to organise my thoughts.

"It's late..." I start, deliberating over my choice of words.

He chuckles, a maddening chuckle that makes me scowl even more, "Aye Claudia, it's so late that it's so damn early."

"Why don't you stay?"

The humour vanishes from his face, and he simply looks at me, before he turns and walks the rest of the way down the stairs.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

I've just scared off the one guy I've been mad about since my ex left me. I feel like bashing my head repeatedly against the wall until I bleed. How could I be so bloody stupid?! I sounded desperate, as if I hadn't sex in _years_.

...

I haven't in quite awhile, but that's not the point.

Then I hear something that makes me freeze.

"Is fifty ok?"

The cab drives off, but Nick's still standing there, his back to me. Slowly, he faces me, hands deep in his pockets, expressionless.

"So, Miss Brown... you gonna invite me in for some tea?"

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><p>Please review - I miss them :(<p>

GPR


	6. Tea Time

A/N: Just got the news that I'm getting a lovely little flat near the university with my fiancé, quite happy at the moment despite the fact I've been ill 2 weeks running with two seperate illnesses. Anyways, I know you've been waiting for this chapter! Let's commence!

PS: I know it's short. I'm awfully sorry, but it has to be as the next chapter can't really be incorporated into this one!

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><p>Nick sits at my kitchen table like it he did not so long ago, head bowed and eyes scanning the newspaper in front of him. It's weird. I know it shouldn't be - we've known each other for about a year, and we're colleagues, and... and...<p>

His eyes turn from the paper and onto me. I sit there, caught up in his intense gaze, wondering how someone's eyes could be so blue...

My breathing's increased, not dramatically, but enough for me - and perhaps even Nick - to notice.

"Are you gonna get that?" He murmurs, amusement etched into his features.

"Huh?"

"The kettle," he says, unable to suppress a smirk, "It's finished boiling..."

I make a move to get to my feet, but he lays a hand across mine, causing me to hesitate. I hesitate a little longer than I'd like to. I find his eyes again.

"Let me."

I don't argue with him - he is the more sober one. The warmth of his hand leaves mine as he rises and reaches for the kettle.

A few minutes later he sets a steaming mug down in front of me. I take a sip, and an involuntary sigh escapes my lips. Still standing, his mug in hand, Nick grins.

"Happy?"

"Very. Thank you." I wrap my hands around the mug as he sits back down. A thought crosses my mind, and in my state, I speak before I think, "Truth, Nick."

He looks at me, bemused, then understands, "I didn't know we were still playing."

"Only if you want to," I tease, raising the mug to my lips. His eyes follow, lingering there even after I set the cupback down.

"Okay. What's your question?"

I pause.

"Do you still love Helen?"

His lips part in mild shock, his eyes searching me, "Why do you want to know?"

"Really Nick?" The annoyance is clear in my voice, "I thought it'd be evident by now."

Nick leans in close, his expression suddenly serious, "No, Claudia. I don't. I can honestly say I have no feelings for that woman. Not anymore."

"What changed?" I can smell the tea on his breath.

"What do you mean?"

"What changed between now and when I asked you before?"

I'm not expecting his touch. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers trail across my cheek, pushing back my hair behind my ear. Our lips touch lightly, "A lot."

My hands fly to his shirt - knocking the tea over in the process - pulling him even closer to me. Pressing my lips firmly to his, I can feel his arms wrap tightly around me.

The desperation - the need - that I feel is overwhelming.

"Claudia - Claudia wait," Nick gasps against my lips. I pull away, struggle for breath myself, "We... we can't do this."

His chest heaves against mine as he talks, and the regret is evident in his eyes.

Even though I don't want to admit it myself, I know he's right. In the state we're in it could never be anything but... regretful, I guess, and that's certainly something I don't want. I don't want to mess this relationship up... I don't want him to think ill of me.

"I know." I sigh, "We should finish the tea and then... head to bed... I guess. I'll show you the spare room."

Nick smiles, "I think it'll be a bit difficult to finish the tea, seeing as it's spilled on the table."

XXX

Having mopped up the mess I'd made and washed the mugs, we found ourselves enveloped in silence.

"Are you sure you want to stay?"

"Of course." Nick suppresses a grin, "Besides. It's two AM."

Switching all the lights off, we head up into the darkness of upstairs, and stop at the only door ajar, "This is the spare room."

"Thanks."We watch each other, and for a moment I think he might try to kiss me again, but he seemingly decides against it, instead offering me a smile before disappearing into the dark.

The last thing I'm aware of as my head hits the pillow, is the sound of old springs as Nick climbs into bed next door.

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><p>Please review - they equal more chapters!<p>

GPR


	7. Empty Cribs and Unused Baby Booties

**Sorry this has been awhile, but life caught up with me. Be warned, this chapter is profound and increases tension! Please review, they really do encourage me to continue writing! :)**

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><p>I roll over. Partly aware that I'm awake, and yet still dreaming. I hang in that precious, easy to disturb state where dream and reality melt together, and when the alarm sounds, and I open my eyes, I know that I was dreaming of something utterly, inconceivably beautiful. Impossible.<p>

It fades from my memory in an instant, and I'm left longing desperately for sleep, and the impossible possibility of it drifting back to me.

I lie there for an hour, slipping from the waking world back into sleep, and then back again, repeatedly. Eventually, I ease myself up, and sit, back to headboard and stare at the wall.

The air is ice. The window's open, I don't remember opening it, but I must have done.

Staring at the wall, the wall my bedroom shares with the guest bedroom, I remember Nick. I remember last night, though hazy, and cringe.

My God, what the hell must he think of me?

I sit there a little long, mull it over several times in my head, as if that will somehow help.

Fuck that.

If he doesn't think much of me now is there anything I can really do to sway his opinion?

I pull on my comfy trousers for scrubbing around the house in and a thick jumper. I pause as my eyes land on my discarded bra. My breasts feel heavier, lower just looking at it. I feel vulnerable in that instant, knowing Nick is in the next room, and that I will probably have to face him like this. Almost exposed. Highly aware of my nakedness underneath these clothes.

It's too cold to bother taking any layers off.

I close the window, and then fold my arms protectively over my chest before wandering out onto the landing.

The door's open when I get there. The curtains are too, and flood the room with weak, white, fog-ridden light. I lean against the doorframe and drink in the scene, unsurprised. I know what he's thinking, as he sits in the corner, swaying gently in the rocking chair.

Nick doesn't speak, and I let the silence lie for a moment. It's comfortable; I know by the expression on his face that he doesn't judge me. He looks puzzled.

He still refuses to look at me though, but continues to stare at the mobile hanging over the partially put together crib.

"Lee was always jumping ahead. Impatient. Excited, I guess." Nick's gaze lingered on me as I spoke, "The day I told him, he stared clearing this place out so he could do it up. I found it amusing and endearing of him, really... he was always like that. Sweet. Thoughtful."

I pause, trying to hold back my emotions, "He'd always wanted to be a father and after two years of trying, we were going to start our own family, finally... I earned more than him – he was a poet, well, more of an aspiring one – so I was working through most of my early pregnancy and... I was only a couple of months pregnant. The workload increased... it became stressful. Eventually it became too much, and I had a stress induced miscarriage."

I feel my eyes burn. I know that he can see me on the verge crying, "I Lee was distraught, demanded we try again. Demanded I take a step back from my career. Focus on us. Obviously, I was too stupid to listen to him, and... he left."

I take in a shuddering breath through my constricted throat, and meet his unwavering eyes, "I chose my career over my fiancé and my unborn child. What does that say about me?"

Silence.

"I honestly... I... Claudia, I have nothing... there _is_ nothing to say."

I smile, despite my tears, and gaze at the half-finished nursery, "No... there isn't, is there?"

Nick stands up, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. I realise that's all he's wearing. His t-shirt and jacket are half-draped over the end of the bed. I cross my arms over my chest once again.

"I don't care." His eyes are bloodshot and tears line them, "I waited for years for Helen to change her mind about having kids. I spent eight years knowing I would never have them after she disappeared. Then this... bizarre lifestyle plonked itself down into my lap, and along with it you, and I never, not once, thought about anything beyond you. Just, the existence of you."

His words hang in the air, weighted, and I begin to cry.

"I love you." He murmurs, "If you want a family, I'll give you a family. You want a career? I'll never demand anything of you that would limit that. I'll give you anything, do anything, within my power-"

"Nick..." We stand inches apart now, and I can almost feel his wanton desperation, "You know this could never work."

He takes my face in hands, brushes my cheeks with his rough thumbs, and trails the tip of his nose on the bridge of mine, "I know. I just don't care anymore. What if I lost you? Why wait? Why bother waiting? I know the agony losing you would put me through."

"C'mon Nick, what about Helen?"

He pulls away, a frown creasing his brow, "Why should I give a damn about her?"

I push his hands away from my face, angered, "Jesus Christ Nick, despite her saving me and other... various acts of kindness she's demonstrated, what if it's all because of an ulterior motive? What if she's a real piece of work under all that... that... what if we do decide to try this... whatever it is between us, out and she flips? What if she's still in love with you-"

"I highly doubt that-"

"What if she becomes crazed? What if she puts a bullet in my head? Or worse, yours?"

He becomes rigid at my last words, breathing deep. He pauses, "You're right."

Walking away, he runs a hand over his face, and then picks up his shirt and jacket, "I'll be on my way, then."

I nod, even though I don't want him to go. I want to pull him back into my bedroom; I want to cry my love out loud as we fuck each other repeatedly. Again and again until my legs tremble with effort. My folded arms tighten.

I move from the doorway to let him pass, but he stops right in front of me, pained. His fingers linger at my jaw line.

"Just... one thing."

"Okay."

"Your feelings, are they the same?"

"More than you can imagine."

He walks past.

"I love you."

Standing at the top of the stairs, he turns, a small smile on his lips, "About time."

I stand there, the sound of the front door closing echoing in my head.

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><p>Please, please review,<p>

GPR


	8. One night stands and Ex-wives

Right... so this isn't exactly how I planned or envisioned this story going, but I think it's a good plot point. To answer a previous reviewer, yes I do have an overall story arc for this fanfic, you'll just have to wait and see what happens ;) I think you guys are going to love this chapter - I do - and I've already written the next chapter, which I will upload after this chapter gets enough reviews to reassure me this story is actually worth continuing. I know you guys probably hate all this "please review" stuff, but it really means the world to us writers because we know that people are still out there reading our work.

Enjoy!

PS: BE WARNED, STRONG LANGUAGE TO FOLLOW.

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><p>Monday morning rolls around quicker than I want it too, and before I know it, I'm sliding my briefcase onto the passenger's seat and getting ready to drive to work.<p>

I'm exhausted, having had a (large) glass of wine last night at the prospect of seeing Nick much earlier than I'd like since... well... I don't actually know what to call it. It wasn't a break up seeing as we'd never been together... oh, whatever. It is what it is, even if I don't know what it... is...

I start the ignition, thinking this is one day at work I could really do without. I just... I need a few days to sort my head out, to accept the fact that, whatever is between me and Nick, is going nowhere, and to kid myself I am perfectly okay with it.

"Do you have a spare room at all?"

I yell out in shock at the voice coming from behind me, in the back of the car. Furiously, I turn around and start shouting at the top of my lungs, "What the _fuck_ are you doing in my car, Helen? Are you _insane_? Are you so lacking in concept of personal and private space that you're practically mentally retarded? Is that it? Are you _fucking_ crazy Helen?"

I lose it, and swing out of the driver's seat, walking around to the back doors, yanking hers open, "Get out, now, before I-"

"What?" The smirk disappears from Helen's face, and she steps out of the car – her face mere millimetres away from my own. If I hadn't been so angry, I might have felt intimidated, but as it stood I just couldn't give a damn about her petty mind-games, "What are you going to do, Claudia?"

I feel the anger spike as she uses my name. She has no god damn right to call me that!

"I'm not afraid of you." I say.

"You should be." She shoots back. I pause for a moment, trying to catch my breath as I process her words. She seems utterly serious, and part of me doesn't doubt that I _should _be afraid of the kind of power Helen Cutter wields. What if she just decided to get rid of me? What if she simply went back in time and killed me as a baby? What if she wipes me from history before I become involved in the anomalies? No-one would know I had existed... no-one would care... Claudia Brown would just cease to exist, and only Helen would know. "You should be shitting yourself, Claudia, because I know-"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me-"

"For fuck's sake I've had it with your cryptic games!"

"I know Nick spent the night! I saw him. I saw both of you," I freeze at her words, and realise that she close to _crying_, "I saw him go into your house late at night, and he didn't leave until the next morning-"

"It's not what you think-"

"He was putting a t-shirt on as he left! You slept with my husband you... you whore, you slut!" She slaps me hard, straight across the face, and the sound resonates down the street. People have stopped, and are staring at us. At me. I feel physically sick.

I stand in the middle of the road, hand cradling my burning cheek, tears welling in my eyes from the pain. I notice one of my neighbours, shock written on her face, and tears of humiliation start to run freely.

"I... we didn't," I start, desperately trying to wipe my eyes. I'll be damned if this bitch knows how badly she's hurt me, "I never slept with him!"

"Sure you didn't!" Helen makes sure to yell as loudly as possible, so that everyone can hear her. Despite her watery eyes, I can see a hint of satisfaction there. She's got me, well and good.

"You know what Helen? That had been my intention; I intended to screw his god damn brains out, which is more than you can say you ever gave him!" I become hysterical, matching her volume in an attempt to touch a nerve, "And do you know, after eight long years of hoping that the sadistic _fuck_ of a wife he had would come back to him, and finding out that she'd shagged his best friend behind his back throughout their marriage, he was more than willing to. God, he wanted me, he _really_ wanted me. He wanted to wait, 'til we were sober, so he'd remember what it felt like to be with a proper woman-"

I touch a nerve too far. Helen's hands are around my neck, constricting. My hand entwines in her hair as I begin to choke, and I wrench my hand with all my strength. She screams; I make a gagging noise for air.

Suddenly I feel someone else's hands on Helen's, pulling them free, and another pair untangling my fingers from her hair. The men, who have been bystanders up to this point, pull us off of each other. Helen's screams escalate. I choke on the air, feeling it rush down my lungs, and collapse into the man's arms.

"Are you alright?" He says.

"I'll kill you! How dare you, you little whore!" Helen shrieks, almost crazed. I've never seen her like this before.

I cough, trying to pull myself out of the man's arms, and say to him, "Leave... me alone."

"Barry? Have you called the police?" He says.

Crap. The last thing I need is getting caught up in an attempted murder charge with a dead woman, especially as I'm now running late for work.

Helen has the same idea. She slams her foot down onto that of the rather burly-looking man restraining her, then punches him full in the face and flees down the street. I simply sit there, in the middle of the road, with a stranger's arms around me, inhaling air like cigarette smoke.

After a few minutes, I get to my feet, still supported by my unlikely hero. I look at him, still breathing deeply, and say, "Look... I really... can't... get involved-"

I gesture to my car – the doors still wide open – and then make my way towards it.

"Look, lady-"

"Claudia." I mutter in irritation.

"Claudia," he says, a serious look on his face, "I really don't think you should be going anywhere. You've been assaulted, and are injured. The police are on their way and I strongly advise you stay."

I'm strong-armed into staying put, and end up sitting sideways in the driver's seat of my car, several people – or witnesses as they've started to refer to themselves as – milling about me. I hate the attention, the constant stream of: "are you okay, are you sure?"

When the police arrive, I'm forced to make a statement whilst Lester's calls to my phone go unanswered. Eventually, Nick's name on my phone catches my eye.

"Miss, please, this is rather important. Could you confirm your statement?"

I sigh, flipping the phone shut, "Sure."

"You say that this woman believes you're having an affair with her husband-"

"Estranged husband," I correct, "She left him eight, nearly nine years ago."

"And they still aren't legally divorced?"

"Helen Cutter is legally dead."

"Excuse me?" He looks at me incredulously.

I grow increasingly impatient, "Look, Helen Cutter disappeared nine years ago, and was presumed dead. Don't believe me then look it up."

I get into my car and slam the door. He knocks on the window, and I undo it.

"What?" I sigh.

"We aren't finished here Miss, and I really think you should get that checked out." The police officer's pointing at the dark, red marks around my neck.

"Look. I'm really sorry, but I really _do_ need to get to work." I hand him a business card through the window, "I work for Home Office, under James Lester."

I watch his face as he sees the small government seal in the corner, "Alright Miss. I'll contact you later for a statement. In the meantime, I think you should find somewhere else to stay seeing as this woman knows where you live."

I thank him and promptly leave.

Driving to the Home Office, I curse. This is a screw up of epic proportions. Not only am I late, and judging by the number of missed calls, missing an anomaly, the police now know Helen Cutter is alive.

...

So much for disposing of her discreetly.

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><p>Claudia's turned into a bit of a swearer in this - sorry. I just think she'd resort to this kinda language with Helen, well, you know.<p>

Please review = next chapter!

GPR


	9. Bruised Black and Blue

Second chapter. Enjoy - again, sorry for the language used, but it's supposed to be... realistic (that's what us writers do ;))

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><p>I must look an utter mess.<p>

Everyone stares at me as I walk into the lobby of the Home Office. I feel their eyes linger on the red mark spanning the length of my face, and then come to rest on the angry, hand shaped stains stretching across my neck. My eyes are puffy as well, I can feel it.

They must all think I've got an abusive husband, or something.

The receptionist, who usually smiles and bids me good day as I go by, tries to hide his alarm but fails.

"Miss Brown?"

I turn, and smile faintly, "Yes, Frederick?"

"Are... are you alright, ma'am?"

At first I wonder whether I should answer, and as the other receptionist, a woman I don't recognise, conspicuously moves closer towards us, I give him a thin-lipped smile, "Fine, thank you."

The part of the floor where the anomaly research team are based is completely empty when I get there, that is, except for Lester's office.

He's on the phone as I enter, and doesn't even bother to look at me as he slams the phone down, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm awfully sorry, Sir-"

"We had a rather worrying anomaly sighting in an office building this morning, something about prehistoric worms. I had to put Captain Becker in charge of mediation between the Home Office and the field team because you didn't bother to show up! He's barely been working here a week and I'm already having to put him in situations not suited to his job description because-"

Lester trails off, glancing up for the first time to see my face. For a moment he's silent, expressionless, and then concern floods his features, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Helen Cutter-"

"What?" He's on his feet in a matter of milliseconds, walking around the desk and gently grasping my shoulders, "You're saying Helen did this to you?"

"This morning she... uh, jumped me in my car." At this point I have barely any energy left to care, or feel emotional about it.

"She was in your car?" I can see the fury in his eyes.

"Yes."

"And she... tried to, to what, strangle you?"

I merely nod, not wanting to elaborate on exactly why she wanted me dead.

"Helen actually tried to kill you?" The anger is becoming more apparent in his voice as he leads me into the chair opposite his desk. He bends a little so we are face to face.

"She would have succeeded if two men hadn't intervened-"

Lester stands to his full height, and dials a number into his phone, "Tell me everything."

I explain to him what happened, being careful to leave Nick out of it, as he waits as the phone rings.

He nods as I finish, and someone picks up on the other end, "Hello? Becker, yes, sorry to bother you, I'm sure you're busy but this is rather important- no, yes, I understand you're pre-occupied but this takes precedence... is there an anomaly there? Well has it closed? Okay. I want you to make sure the entire team understand what I am about to tell you, do you understand? Even Cutter – no I don't give a damn if he doesn't bloody well listen to you, make him listen. You and your men, and even those in the field team, including Cutter, are to shoot Helen Cutter on sight. Do you understand, Becker? I don't give a fuck if it's his wife and refuses to do so, anyone found to have the chance to shoot that woman dead on sight and doesn't do so will suffer serious repercussions, do I make myself clear?!"

He crams the phone into the cradle, and then looks at me, "You should go home."

"I'd rather not. She knows where I live – I'd feel much safer at work for the time being."

"I have a flat in London I barely use. You could use it for the moment, until we've got this... thing sorted out."

I'm touched by his kindness, if a little surprised, but I know better than to argue with him, "Thank you, Lester."

We settle into a momentary silence, before I speak once again, "Don't you think shooting on sight is a bit of an overreaction?"

"Of course not. For god's sake Claudia the woman tried to _murder _you!" He sees my expression, and then calms down, "I'm sorry... I'll go see if I can find that woman who makes the tea and get her to... make a tea."

When the field team arrive back, I've already finished most of the work that needed doing for the day, and have started trawling through some old police files to see if I can pinpoint any possible past anomalies for future reference.

Nick's the first one in through the door, and doesn't see me at my desk tucked in the corner. I rejoice in that fact, because I'm fairly certain I know what's about to happen.

Throwing Lester's office door wide open, he begins to shout, "What the hell are you thinking? You can't just order the execution of someone like that, even if it is Helen!"

My heart sinks. How can he still defend that woman? He told me he didn't love her anymore... he doesn't, does he?

"I damn well can, and don't you dare try my patience on this Cutter!"

The door swings closed and the shouts become somewhat muffled, though not by much. Abby and Connor stand in the middle of the room, a little unsure themselves of how react to what's going on.

Abby looks over towards me, seemingly about to say something, when she stops herself and her eyes roam over my face. I watch as she puts two and two together.

"Claudia, whoa, oooph-" Connor recoils at the sight of the marks on my face and neck – they're probably turning black and blue by now - and Abby promptly elbows him in the ribcage.

"I'm sick of this," I snap, collecting up my files and making a bid for the door.

"Look what you did!" Abby hisses to the clueless Connor, "Do you know what tact is Connor? Do you need a bloody dictionary?"

Just as I reach the door, Stephen barrels through, straight into me, and my files go everywhere.

"Oh god Claudia, I'm sorry." He bends down as I do to pick them up, and hastily shoves them into one unordered pile, which irritates me.

"Don't worry about it," I sigh, standing up and attempting to get past him, but he stops me, his hand gripping my upper-arm.

"What-"

"Will you all just quit it!" I cry out, getting angry once again, yanking my arm from Stephen's grip.

"What the hell's going on?" Asks Becker as he too comes through the door, pressing into my back, wedging me between him and Stephen. He looks at Stephen, and then frowns. I don't think they particularly like one another.

I wriggle free from between them.

At that precise moment Lester and Nick's yells fill the room, full volume, as the office door opens, and Lester rushes through.

"You think that woman deserves to live Cutter? After everything she's done!" I've never seen James Lester so angry, not even when that intern spilt boiling coffee all down his brand new suit.

"I'm not defending her-"

"I'd bloody well hope not-"

"But she has human rights, you can't just put a bullet in her head because you feel like it-"

"Feel like it? Feel-" Lester storms over towards us, heading straight for me, and pushes Stephen out of the way, "Do you think I'm just going to let that bitch of a wife of yours do _this _to my employees? Do you think this is _acceptable_ Cutter?!"

Nick doesn't respond. He simply stares at me, absolute horror fixed on his face.

"Dinosaurs I can't do a damn thing about, but I'm not letting some raving lunatic stalk and murder the people under my care, who are my responsibility, if I can help it!"

"Claudia..." Nick fails to say anything else, and shakes his head in utter disbelief, his eyes trained on me.

After a moment's silence, I turn to Lester, "Do you have the keys to that apartment? I think I ought to leave."

I don't meet Nick's gaze as Lester takes a specific set of keys off a ring, and hands them to me.

"Claudia." Nick's voice is firmer, and I feel his hand at the side of my face, turning me to face his. At first I think he might kiss me, in front of everyone, but instead he stares into my eyes, his lips parted lightly. I see the pain in his eyes.

"Get off me, Nick," I say, pulling away from his touch. I feel sick again. I feel even more hurt then I did before. How could he...? How could he even suggest Helen deserved equal treatment? I can't stop the hurt that shines through in my words, "You know when we were drunk, and you had the prospect of climbing into bed with me, you said you didn't love her anymore. I can't _believe_ I thought you genuinely meant it!"

Everyone else in the room looks away awkwardly at the mention the two of us nearly having sex. I instantly regret it, the heat of embarrassment flaring up in my cheeks, making the injured cheek throb.

Nick shakes his head, "Please don't do this..."

I grab my briefcase from my desk and make for the door.

"Claudia! Claudia! Get the fuck off of me!" Nick desperately struggles against Becker's grasp as I leave, "Claudia!"

I can still hear Nick calling out my name as make my way down the corridor, and towards the elevator.

Eventually he becomes hysterical, and starts screaming for me.

* * *

><p>Please review!<p>

GPR


	10. Doctor's Orders

A/N: I'm sorry this is short, but my mind's just... melted with this English heatwave! Agh! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>I sit, perched on the edge of a chair, in Lester's kitchen – watching the man himself gazing worriedly in my direction. The doctor, a close friend of Lester's (he's assured me), kneels in front of me, studying the angry marks left on my neck.<p>

"I've told you I'm fine." My voice comes out somewhat croaky, from a lack of use since this morning's events. I've been here, at the kitchen table, attempting to get some work done in utter silence just to occupy my mind. I can't think about what happened, I just can't. Anger, fear and disappointment flood through me if I do.

The doctor smiles kindly at me once he finishes inspecting my injuries, gets to his feet, and looks between me and Lester.

"She seems to be perfectly fine." He says to Lester.

"That's good." Says the latter, as they both turn to me.

The doctor speaks.

"It looks like you'll have some bruising for awhile, and it'll be uncomfortable to move your head from side to side too much, but painkillers should be able to ease the worst of it. You're really quite lucky actually, if they'd grabbed you any lower with the amount of force they exerted onto your neck..." he trails off, pointing out the expanse of skin directly in the middle of my collarbone, where the bone curves into crescent and the skin, lacking the hard tracheal cartilage, is exceptionally soft, "... well, let's just say you wouldn't exactly be here."

Afterwards, as the doctor's zipping up the medical kit he never used, Lester shows me to the spare room and talks me through how the ensuite shower works. I sit on the edge of the bed after he leaves, and listen to the voices echoing down the corridor towards me. I can't make out most of it, save for a few words, words which chill my spine: "lucky...not brain damage...or comatose."

Sometime after the front door closes, Lester appears in the doorway, looking somewhat awkward.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft and low.

"I'll be alright." I force a smile, mainly for his benefit and reassurance than mine.

He continues to stare at me, wearing a slight frown of unease, "You know... I understand that I'm probably one of the last people you'd want to confide in, but... uh... I am here, I will be here, if... you know, you want to ever talk... about anything, you know, not just what happened today."

"Thank you," I pause, our eyes locking, "I appreciate it."

I spend the night between waking and sleeping, the pain in my neck now just a dull ache, but replaced with a tight stiffness.

It still burns when I breathe.

* * *

><p>Please review,<p>

GPR


	11. Chinese and Work-based Relations

I know it's been awhile, but I've been finding it hard to juggle university, home life, friends and exams etc. Yes, life is busy. Very busy. In other news, I'm being published by the University of Reading, and it's launched next week. I have two poems and one prose due to come out, so I'm very happy :) Anyway, like always, enjoy:

* * *

><p>I haven't been to work for a few weeks now. Lester usually emails me any work he wants doing, but apart from that I don't really do much. I can't really. He's worried about Helen (we all are, but y'know) and is a little unnerved that no-one's seen her at all since our incident. She's probably gone through an anomaly to do another eight years of soul-searching… I can only hope.<p>

Personally, I don't really care anymore. I spoke to mum the other day, just to get a sense of normality back in my life, and it struck me that if I'm going to die, then I'm going to die. You can hole yourself up in a cave your whole life terrified you might get stabbed or something, and know you'll be relatively safe, but is that life really worth living?

Ehh… that sounded better in my head, but regardless, it's made me feel a bit better about the whole thing. At least I get to work from home (well, _a_ home) without the nuisance of other people clamouring for my attention on this form, or that spreadsheet yaddah yaddah yaddah. Oh yeah, and I don't get chased by carnivorous dinosaurs and the like. That's a bonus I guess.

I'm sitting on my bed reading the newspaper, contemplating my own mortality, when I hear a key turn in the lock. I hear Lester in the hallway, muttering to himself, before the door slams closed.

"Claudia?"

"In here."

The bedroom door opens a little, and he partly leans into the room, "Did you get my email from Grace?"

"Yes. I called her up asked what was happening, but y'know, she gave me the usual guff. So no, the plans haven't been approved yet. I'm calling up again tomorrow to see if I can get to the bottom of it, but it's not looking likely."

"Any word on funding?"

"They're not happy about discussing funding without approved plans."

"So we're literally waiting on Grace?"

"Looks like it."

"Damn." He says.

"Yeah."

"Oh well. I picked up some Chinese if you're hungry?"

"Oooh. Did you get shredded chilli be-"

"Yes, yes, I remembered."

"How much do I owe you?" I said, unfolding my legs and following him into the kitchen/diner.

"A tenner should cover it."

XXX

We talked for a bit about the plans and Grace as we ate, occasionally drifting off into silence. Our conversations weren't always work-orientated – really, we'd managed to cross a bit of a barrier between us. Not that there was anything ever awkward between us as individuals, but there's always that awkward aspect of a boss/employee relationship (or at least, I've found) that's hard to overcome when the situation requires professionalism in a rather personalised environment. It doesn't feel that awkward living in my boss's weekday apartment anymore – well, I tell a lie, it can be awkward when certain situations arise, but for the most part, we get along. Sometimes Lester talks about his wife and kids, and what they've been up to, and we laugh over some of the silly things. It helps, seeing him as a husband and father – it opens up a different aspect of his personality that I actually quite like. Maybe if he was more relaxed around everyone else he wouldn't get so much stick. He can be a dick sometimes though, especially with his sarcasm, but I've found that's more of a front more than anything. He's probably never like that with his family.

"How's the team?"

He looks up from his chicken chow mein, and sits back in his chair, "They're okay. They get on with the job for the most part…. And Cutter, well, I can't believe I'm going to say this, but he's really being quite awkward. I didn't even know he could be anymore obstinate than he already is, but, you know, a year ago dinosaurs were extinct and backwards time travel was televised fiction, so I really shouldn't be surprised."

I eat a spoonful of special fried rice.

"They don't like the temp filling in for you. To be honest, Leek is a weedy little thing, but I think it's more because he won't let them get away with much, if anything. They miss you."

I think I blush, "I miss them too, and the job."

After a moment's pause, he says: "He misses you most."

I meet his eyes, "I know."

"I know it's none of my business, but I've known for a while there's been something…" he avoids my gaze, and makes a vague hand gesture in substitution of words, "… between the two of you, and I don't want it to look like I'm just doing this because it's affecting people and their jobs, because I'm not, but I think the two of you need to work _something _out. You're not even talking to one another-"

"Sir-"

He holds up a hand to stop me, "I know the two of you were frequently in contact outside of work-"

"It was work related." I know the redness of my cheeks is giving me away.

"And I'm not denying that. But I'm also not going to deny the fact that you are the only one Cutter listens to. He has a deep, professional respect and… affection for you. Irrespective of your personal feelings, you have a good working relationship, and I think that's part of what makes the team work."

"What are you saying?"

He pauses, looks square at me with a blank expression, and says, "I don't know, really. I guess I'm saying you shouldn't let it, or rather, Helen, get between you."

"Professionally?"

"Well… just friendship-wise, I suppose. She's already got Cutter and Hart at each other's throats, and now with you and Cutter… all she needs is to somehow break down the relatively happy dispositions of Sid and Nancy and we're done for."

I instinctively smiled. Sometimes Lester's sarcasm was desperately needed to make the world feel a little less cruel.

* * *

><p>Please review, they're writing fuel!<p>

GPR


	12. Canadians and Emails You Say, Eh?

To: CJBrown

From: JRLester

Claudia,

I'm not sure if you're already aware of the situation, but seeing as I had no knowledge of this myself until today, I'm assuming you don't.

An email was forwarded to me this morning regarding the Canadian government's recent discovery of the anomalies, and in turn, creatures. They have attempted to establish a team of qualified individuals tasked with dealing with the day-to-day anomalous occurrence they are currently experiencing, much like the team we created over a year ago. They have, however, run into a few difficulties, and, of late, become aware of the anomaly department we already run. They have requested, due to our expertise, assistance from the British government to help them set up and maintain a department.

Although I currently know no more than this, it has been suggested that a few qualified individuals will have to go over to aid them. Your name is apparently on this list of suggested candidates.

I will update you when I know more,

J. Lester.

X

To: CJBrown

From: JRLester

Claudia,

I've just received an email confirming that there is a list of suggested candidates suitable for this liaison. I have yet, however, to see this list. I'm trying to HR to forward me a copy, but they're reluctant to until head office give the go ahead.

What I do know so far is that the final choice of candidates won't be down to me. Jack has emailed me asking if I would meet him later today to discuss the matter, and if I would recommend anyone in particular who is on this list. I'm going to send out a mass email soon, but I wanted to get a feel from you as to whether or not you would be happy/like to go?

Let me know,

J. Lester

P.S. You would be situated in either Vancouver or Toronto. They haven't confirmed which yet, or for how long.

X

To: CJBrown

From: JRLester

Claudia,

Okay, so I've attached the list, but I'll save you the bother anyway: you are on it. They're very interested in facilitation between field teams and government bodies, ergo quite interested in having you go over and train a few recruits. I'm still a little hazy on exactly what will be required of you, or any of the little niggly details, but they do want people over there for around a month's period, possibly a little longer.

J. Lester.

P.S. They've confirmed you would be in in _Vancouver_.

X

I open the attachment to the email and scroll through:

- Ainsley, Jennifer

- Brown, Claudia

- Bailey, John

- Carson, Richard

- Cutter, Nicholas

- Emerson, Gabriella

- Leek, Oliver

- Markus, Clara

- Stevens, Marko

- Temple, Connor

Staring out of the living room window of Lester's flat, wonder whether I should go. I need to get away from here. I know that much. It could be a welcome break – no Helen, no history, just different people and different anomalies and a different setting.

I look back down at the computer screen.

Nick's on the list. So is Connor. We could, in theory, end up altogether.

I think about it.

Actually, I don't think I mind. Connor's nice enough and well meaning, and… Nick? Maybe it'll just be easier, without Helen knowing where we are.

Maybe we could get by this, if we both go. We could at least get back to some sort of semblance of what we have been.

X

To: JRLester

From: CJBrown

Lester,

I think I could be more beneficial working in Canada for a few months, rather than working from home here, and would greatly appreciate it if you recommended me.

Thank you,

Claudia Brown.

X

I send the email, and then sit back on the sofa. What if one of us gets picked, and the other doesn't? Would a couple of months apart help? Or would it all just get worse? We haven't seen each other for quite a few weeks as it is. We haven't even spoken.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. He hasn't tried to call me once since I last saw him. I haven't either. It's not like I don't want to, I just…

I put the phone down as the computer pings, letting me know I have an email.

X

To: CJBrown .

From: JRLester .

Claudia,

I'd be happy to recommend you,

J. Lester.

X

I spend the next couple of hours trying to get a hold of Grace on the phone, when another email comes up.

X

To: CJBrown

From: JRLester

Claudia,

Jack was quite impressed with your expertise in the field. He's decided to put you on the shortlist.

J. Lester.

X

On the realisation that I'm actually going, I hang up the phone.

Impulsively, I dial a familiar number.

"Claudia?" At the sound of Nick's voice after so long, I don't know what I feel.

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><p>Please review :)<p>

GPR


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